Good people

Apart from cunning and vile people I met, there were a few gems I came across. One of such people was Vesta.

Vesta was a man from tribal region of Maharashtra. He used to work at my uncle's home. He would do all housework - prepping for the meal, cleaning, running errands, dropping my cousins to school, picking them from school, small repairs, and many other things. Vesta was efficient. He was quick with his work. He was a hardworking man with high moral standards.

I remember seeing him for the very first time. I must have been very young probably 3 or 4 years old. When I saw Vesta for the first time I got scared. He was dark, tall, had wide eyes and big mustache. He looked scary to me. But then over the year I saw that how helpful he was. How my uncle, aunt, and the cousins' lives were easy because of him. Also I saw that he was a very kind man. Gradually my fear completely disappeared.

Vesta loved my uncle's family. He would call my uncle "Bhau" (brother in Marathi) and also would at as if he was his real brother. He would call my aunt Vahini (sister in law in Marathi) and watch equally caring towards her. It was like his own duty to make my aunt's work as easy as possible. He would help my uncle and my aunt in every possible way. He would love my cousins as if he was their uncle. My cousins to would call him Kaka (uncle in Marathi) and would love him as if he was an actual blood relative. Vesta being very old would still play with my cousins. He would tell them stories from his childhood and village. He had become a family member.

There were several mysteries about Vesta. Uncle met him when he was working in Dahanu, where Vesta was a caretaker. Uncle asked him if he would like to work for him and come to Mumbai. Vesta agreed and came to Mumbai with uncle. But a lot of things about Vesta were not known to anybody. Nobody knew where he was from. He was not from Dahanu but sone remote village. He never spoke about his family and it was unknown if he had any family. He would tell the stories about his village but he was unable to remember the name of the village. The biggest question of all was his age. When uncle first saw him he was past his youth. He was very old but nobody including himself did not know how old he was. Despite of all the mysteries, Vesta had proved time and again how loyal and loving he was.

When I was in 20s I saw Vesta the very last time. He appeared frail and weak. My uncle told me that he was unable to eat because of his old age. He had taken Vesta to hospital but he refused to take medicines or get hospitalized. Few days later, Vesta died. My uncle had lost a loyal friend, aunt had lost a loving brother, and cousins lost their uncle. My uncle performed all rites as per the Hindu traditions.

Even after several years of passing, Vesta still remains in their memories. My cousins still miss him. His ordinary story was worth telling because loyal helps like Vesta are rare. He was a real gem.